


Two Sides of the Same Coin

by daisybrien



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (i cant believe thats an actual popular tag that showed up im using it), Alternia, Alternia is Terrible, Angst, Drama & Romance, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Kissing, Parallels, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub, Pre-Sgrub, Red Romance, Romance, Short & Sweet, Sweet, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She makes you feel like you belong together. </p><p>You trust her enough to believe it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: First Kiss. For Arafefweek

When she finally kisses you, she tastes like sweet dewy gum and the sting of sea salt in your eyes when she pulled you under, all those weeks ago.

There is something terrifying about kissing her; you don’t belong here. You’re vulnerable out here in seadweller territory, the tint of your clothes and the flecks of your iris a blatant, bright target that consumes the identity it represents, a caste you never chose. You’ve kept from forging trails to new sights, venturing too far into ancient ruins by the shores due to the dangers your own biology causes, innumerable close calls of near death at another’s hands a teacher of your limitation. It teaches with scars and frights and your friends disappearing with nothing but warnings in their chat boxes, the prickle of the hair at the back of your neck standing on end against the discerning eyes of those deemed better, worthier. Yet you never learn; despite the instinctive fear thrumming through your veins like fire, as similar hue and deadly as your blood, her touch soothes the flame, the cool waves of the ocean washing calm over you.

You don’t belong here, but she makes you feel like you do.

Her lips are surprisingly fierce, deceptive in its round curves and pillowy volume, a disarming weapon disguised against the rest of her plump form. Her body is strong, gentle and soft against you now. You’re close, cool wetness from her clothes seeping into yours, grains gritting between your teeth as your toes bump against each other as they burrow into the sand. Her fingers are tender in the wisps of your hair by the small of your back, insistent as she presses you to her, begging for reciprocation. It makes your chest beat in an intoxicating irregular rhythm, your lips moving with its beat. When you agree to the question of her hand with joy rather than submitting to it in resentment, you realize you think you’ve wanted this for a while.

She breaks the kiss too soon, body jolting violently, almost hopping backwards with nervous energy as her wide eyes burn into yours. Circled by the pink grooves her goggles had pressed into her skin, they are bright and vibrant with a giddy anxiety. Under her hopeful, almost sad gaze, you are enraptured. 

With a hidden gasp and a pang to the chest, you realize she is fearful.

Her hand moves from your back, grazing over your shoulders, getting caught in your hair as it traces down your arm to grasp your hand. You tuck a damp clump of hair behind her ear, feel the familiar tug of your flushed cheeks into a smile that the thought of her has always threatened to pull from your lips. When you laugh, relieving a tension somewhere deep in your gut with its release, she giggles, high and jubilant with a flutter of her fins and the jump of her feet. Her teeth flash sharp and stained with glittery fuchsia lipstick behind puckered lips, her puffing cheeks and radiant smile settling your nerves like soothing sopor against your hot sweaty skin and the smell of dirt in the quiet of abandoned and crumbling relics.

She is here, and therefore you belong here too.

*

When you finally build the courage to kiss her, she tastes of her last meal and the dirt you’ve learned has found its home beneath her short, stubby fingernails, permanently set there despite the times she’s followed you into the sea, just for you.

There is something thrilling about kissing her; you’re not allowed to do this. You’ve brought a lowblood to mingle among an unforgiving higher caste, your fraternization a violent treason against the society you are supposed to rule with an iron fist you don’t possess. The pleasures of royalty are not enough to keep you from loathing the system that needs to be dismantled, drowned under the wrath of sea storms and monsters alike. The thought of leading that fury is less of a dream than a far ambition. You’ll cast aside riches unneeded and unearned and, dropping them into the chaos not below your feet but by your side, let the vicious waves of yourself bring the justice you crave. Falling in love with her is an insurgence just beginning, but she is so much more than that.

You’re rebelling, but she makes you feel like you don’t have to.

Her lips are frozen beneath yours, surprisingly still against her massive, always moving body, every motion and gesture sincere in determination and meaning. For once, part of her isn’t doing something needed done. You’re close, her warmth like the heat of a cozy bonfire keeping the bite of ocean chill at bay, her eyelashes brushing against yours like the silky wings of seabugs. You wrap your arms around her - tentative as not to overstep the bounds of your relationship into a mere demand – and her hands find your wrists, anchoring her to you. Her lips start to move against yours, agreeing and enthusiastic, her warmth burning like wildfire in your stomach.

You jerk away, searching her face for any kind of displeasure you could have elicited. The mellow stars sparkling like ruby flecks in the depth of her dazed pupil shine with shock and hope, still as her eyes pierce holes into you, sharp as spears.

Pressing your nails into your palms, the sting of them against your skin grounding, you realize she is fearful.

One of her hands finds a purpose, slowly releasing from its stiffness to tuck a lock of your frizz back by the strap of your goggles by your temple. Your hand escapes the maze of her soft hair and its never-ending depth and curl, moving to discover the dips and curves of her contour until it finds its home in the warmth of her calloused palms. She laughs with a grin that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle in the most adorable way, voice a breathy note that gets buried beneath the rush of waves in the distance; you follow her lead, giggling loud as you dance about, swinging her along to follow your movement as delight rises into your chest like bubbles in a hot spring. Her lips, full and round and flushed with the depth of dark maroon, stretch into the same genuine smile that enticed you so long ago, its moons-like radiance enchanting you, leaving you hungry and ecstatic with rushing vitality and love.

Your love is seen as rebellion, but the two of you are truly heavenly.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of stuff about Alternian trolls and culture slip my mind and I know romance between castes happened, but considering how fucked up it was and multiple mentions or characterization of supremacist and violent attitudes in canon I would assume a romance with such a gap in class would be frowned upon. Man what the fuck Alternia.
> 
> First time writing AraFef and writing in SPOV can I get a hell yeah.


End file.
